French spoke coaxingly and the other promised he would try to remember. He seemed to French like a man who felt he had been exposed to a danger which was now happily past. But if he thought he had got rid of his visitor he was mistaken. “When were you last at Starvel, Mr. Whymper?” At this question Whymper seemed to crumple up. He stared at his questioner with an expression of something very like horror. When he answered it was almost in a whisper. “The day after the fire. I have not been there since.” “I don’t mean that. I mean, when were you last there before the fire?” Whymper’s composure was coming back. He seemed to be nerving himself for a struggle. He spoke more normally. “Really, I couldn’t tell you, Inspector. It was a long time ago. I was only there half a dozen times in my life. Once it was by Miss Averill’s invitation, the other times on the chance of seeing her.” “Were you there within a week of the fire?” “Oh no. The last time was long before that.” “Had you any communication with Mr. Averill—I mean within a week of the fire?” “No. I never had any communication with Mr. Averill. I have never seen him.” “Or with any one in the household; either by letter, telegram, telephone, personal interview or in any other way whatever?” “Yes. I met Miss Averill accidentally on the day before the fire. Mrs. Oxley, the wife of a solicitor here, came round to the church where I am working to see about some stones she was buying, and Miss Averill was with her. Miss Averill was on her way to stay with some friends and I saw her to the station.” “Did she give you the twenty-pound note?” “She did nothing of the kind,” Whymper returned with some heat. “Was Miss Averill the only member of the Starvel household with whom you communicated during the week before the fire?” Whymper hesitated and appeared to be thinking. “Well, Mr. Whymper?” “I met Roper, Mr. Averill’s valet and general man, for a moment on the evening of the fire. We met by chance and merely wished each other good-evening.” “Where did you meet him?” “On the street just outside the church gate. I was leaving work for the night.” “At what hour was that?” “About half-past five.” “And do you assure me that you had no other communication with any member of the Starvel household during the period in question?” “None.” “Nor received any message through any third party?” “No.” “Well, Mr. Whymper, it is only fair to tell you that the note in question was in Mr. Averill’s safe five days before the fire. You will have to explain how it came into your possession, if not to me, then later on in court. Now think,” French’s voice was suave and coaxing, “would you not rather tell me here in private than have it dragged out of you in the witness box?” “I would tell you at once, Mr. French, if I had anything to tell, but I’ve nothing. There must be some mistake about the note. The one I gave to Messrs. Cook couldn’t possibly have been in Mr. Averill’s safe at any time.”